One of the main reasons I created this blog in the first place, was to give independent musicians a helping hand in what is widely regarded as a very competitive business. I've also always been fascinated by how complete unknowns somehow manage to break through the noise and despite everything still manage to rise to the top. It's an old-fashioned, somewhat romantic notion, but one that still feels relevant in 2025.
Clearly, there is no single route to break into the music business. It's not like becoming a teacher or a lawyer, where you follow a defined path, put in the work and emerge at the other end as a fully qualified professional. Music doesn't work like that, and perhaps that's part of both its appeal and its cruelty.
Many artists who do succeed have great stories behind them. Chrissie Hynde spotting the Violent Femmes busking on the street and inviting them to support The Pretenders on tour is a perfect example. Those moments feel almost mythical now, yet they still shape how we imagine success happening.
One possible route to increased exposure is through songwriting competitions. On the surface, the idea makes sense. Winning a competition can provide a platform, credibility, and a chance to be heard by industry professionals. Given that entry fees are often modest, it can feel like a reasonable gamble. However, music isn't sport. It's subjective. One person's meat is another's poison, as the saying goes, which raises an obvious question: are songwriting competitions really operating on a level playing field, grounded in something approaching objective reality?
Lately, I've noticed that the same artists often rise to the the top year after year. You don't need to be a statistician to wonder whether this consistency reflects an untouchable level of talent, pure coincidence, or something else entirely. When the same names keep appearing, it inevitably prompts questions about how judging works in creative fields.
Some contests seem to celebrate the same creators repeatedly, often at the expense of other artists who don't appear to get much of a look in. As a songwriter myself, I find this more fascinating than frustrating. Is it simply that certain writers align perfectly with the judges' tastes? Or does it reveal something deeper about how awards shape our perception of what "good" songwriting actually is?
Awards are supposed to highlight excellence, but they also reflect the preferences and biases of those doing the selecting. When the same voices are recognised again and again, it raises broader questions about how we define success, and whether awards truly capture the diversity of creative expression.
Imagine, for example, a songwriting team winning first place in the same competition several years in a row, despite strong and varied competition. That could be an extraordinary testament to their skill, or it might invite a closer look at how creativity is being evaluated in the first place.
These thoughts don't come from a place of bitterness. I haven't entered any competitions for several years, though I still keep an eye on who's doing well, particularly in the songs for children category. I genuinely admire any songwriter who can consistently impress a panel of judges. But as someone who cares deeply about the craft, I can't help wondering what repeated wins really says about judging criteria, musical taste, and expertise.
Frank Zappa once made an interesting point about this. He suggested that much of the great music of the 1960s didn't emerge because young executives had their fingers perfectly on the pulse. Often it was older men, raised on Sinatra and Bing Crosby, who freely admitted they didn't understand the music — but released it anyway to see what would happen.
Those "old guys with big cigars" didn't understand The Doors, the Velvet Underground, or early Pink Floyd. But they took the risk. Today, it sometimes feels as though there are too many experts, too much calculation, and too little willingness to embrace the unfamiliar. Perhaps the music industry — competitions included — has become overly cautious, overly safe, and overly conservative.
Ultimately, competitions are just one lens through which we view music. They can motivate, inspire, and open doors. At the same time, they can also provoke questions about how creativity is measured — and perhaps those questions are just as valuable as the awards themselves.
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